agree with him.
“Has it?” he asked again.
She slowly shook her head.
“You can talk later,” Gregor said. “It would not-” He broke off as he saw Marianna’s expression. He shrugged and rose to his feet. “You have her. One of the things I will tell Alex is that what is written in the stars will be.”
“But you do everything in your power to change it,” Jordan muttered.
“As do you. Put on your cloak, Alex.”
“I don’t need it,” Alex said mutinously.
Gregor put Alex’s cloak around him with almost maternal care. “The night wind is cool. You don’t want to get that cough again.”
Marianna shook her head as Gregor led Alex from the cabin. “He can do anything with Alex. It’s magical.”
“He can do anything with anyone.” Jordan added sourly, “except keep his mouth shut.” He grabbed Marianna’s cloak and put it over her shoulders. “Come along.”
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked as he propelled her from the cabin and along the deck. The breeze from the south was gentle on her face, but there was nothing gentle about Jordan. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, he was suddenly different. That mesmerizing charm had vanished, and there was an aura of suppressed violence about him. She tensed as a thought occurred to her. “I told you I wouldn’t talk about the Window.”
“For God’s sake I’m not fool enough to waste my time in that fashion.”
“Then I don’t know why you-”
“What did you do when you were a child?”
“What?” she asked in confusion.
“What did you do? You must have done more than work at your precious glass.”
“Of course I did.”
“Then tell me about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to
The answer made no more sense than his interest in the first place. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“All children play. What did you play at?”
“Working in the glass was play for me.”
“You don’t ride. Did you go for walks?”
“Sometimes we would go on picnics and take long walks in the hills.”
“Ah, at last a sign of childhood. I thought you’d sprung full grown from a stained-glass window.”
He was clearly in a temper for some reason, and she was growing tired of bearing the brunt of it. “Don’t be foolish.
“You’ve barely mentioned your father, only that he died a few years ago. Tell me about him.”
“Papa? He was very handsome. He had beautiful golden hair and fine features and he laughed a lot.” She was silent a moment, remembering. “He was always laughing.”
“Then he’s different from the poets I know. They seem to thrive on tears and woe.”
She shook her head. “Papa loved to laugh. He said life was meant for laughter.”
“And not for work?” he asked caustically.
“He worked,” she protested. “He wrote beautiful poems. He would sit under the tree in the garden and write for hours.”
“While your mother labored to put bread on the table.”
“She didn’t mind. It suited them both very well.”
“And I’m sure you can’t wait to find your own handsome poet to lavish care and sustenance on.”
“I wouldn’t mind, if he was like Papa,” she said defiantly.
That answer didn’t seem to please him either. “What else did Papa do besides sit under the trees and write poems?”
“He gave me lessons. He taught me French and English and mathematics. He even tried to teach me to write poems like him, but I was never good at it. I didn’t have the gift.”
“But that didn’t matter because you had a gift for the glass and could support him in his old age.”
“You refuse to understand,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about Papa anymore.”
“Neither do I. It’s not succeeding anyway.”
“Succeeding in what?” she asked in exasperation.
He ignored the question and was silent a moment before he said abruptly, “I believe we’ll dispense with our chess games from now on.”
“Why?”
“I’m growing bored with them.” He smiled cynically. “Gregor will tell you that I grow bored with exceptional ease.”
She felt a queer pang she refused to admit was hurt. He had been a little strange, but she was sure he hadn’t been bored this afternoon. Yet how did she know? She couldn’t read him nearly as well as he did her. Perhaps he had been bored during their entire time together. She lifted her chin. “I certainly don’t wish to continue. I was growing bored with them also. I’ll be glad to spend more time with Alex.”
They had reached her cabin, and he opened the door and flung it open. He stood there looking into the darkness, his stance tense. It was almost as if he saw something waiting for him in the shadows.
“Jordan?”
He turned to look at her. She inhaled sharply as she saw his expression.
She moistened her lips. “Is… something wrong?”
“It could be.” His pale green eyes were glittering recklessly, his lips sensual. “But wrong is always the most wicked of delights, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I could teach you. It would be my-” He broke off as he saw her take an instinctive step back. He took a deep breath and whirled on his heel. “Good night.”
She watched him stride away. His dark hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his long stride was faintly animallike in its grace. She had thought she had begun to know him, but tonight he had been everything that was strange and bewildering and hurtful. She should be angry but instead felt bruised and a little afraid.
She was more fearful of Cambaron than she would admit to herself. She knew nothing of castles and dukes and this England her father had hated. Her world had been small and tight and loving, and now it seemed to be growing, yawning like a beast ready to swallow her.
Yet she would rather face a hundred Cambarons than the man who had turned on her tonight. She had thought she had armored herself against him. How had she let him come close enough to hurt her?
CHAPTER 4
The four towers of Cambaron could be seen in the distance, the pennants flying over a massive gray stone castle that was far grander than the one Marianna had seen in Montavia. The place looked strong and cold and alien. The sun was shining brightly, but Marianna involuntarily drew her cloak closer about her.
“Do you see it?” Alex, who had been riding ahead with Gregor, came trotting back and reined in before her. “A castle, Marianna!”
She quickly hid her first reaction and said dryly, “It would be hard for me not to see it. Castles have a habit of being rather prominent.”
“Is it all right if I ride on ahead? Gregor is going to show me the stable.”
She nodded. “But be careful and keep that pony to a walk.”
